


The Rest of the Prologue

by lostintheverse



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Wayward Son - Fandom
Genre: Book 2: Wayward Son, I will say no more so as to not spoil in tags, M/M, Spoilers, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostintheverse/pseuds/lostintheverse
Summary: A tiny little fic that adds to the prologue. (One of a trillion versions we shall see, I hope.) (One of several versions I myself will write, I suspect.)





	The Rest of the Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ****SPOILER ALERT**** This picks up at the end of _Wayward Son_ so if you haven't read that yet do not read any further!

BAZ

When I said I was never leaving home again, I meant it. In a way.

I mean, this road trip was the bane of my existence. If I listed everything that went wrong, I’d be writing for the rest of my life. (And since I am apparently immortal, that’s saying something.) (I guess I’ll need to do something about that. About being immortal, I mean. I’m going to take a page out of Simon’s book and intentionally NOT think about it, at least not until we get past everything on the horizon.)

But despite everything that went wrong: despite the fresh dose of trauma heaped upon us when we were supposed to be  _ healing _ from trauma...despite the buckshot scars on my chest that I’m starting to think may not disappear after all...despite all the fighting and the killing and the fact that my favorite floral shirt was shredded...despite thinking for a full thirty seconds (the longest and most intense of my life) that Simon was actually  _ dead _ ...despite all that, the trip was kind of miraculous. Because I think it worked.

I’d almost lost hope. I mean, we did have some lovely little moments on the trip that seemed like breakthroughs (our foam-sword sparring at the renaissance festival is one of the highlights of my life, I swear), but every time, he closed up inside himself again. The night with the fireflies gutted me.

And on the beach, when he said that asinine thing about me staying with Lamb, and I had finally managed to articulate part of what was in my heart just in time for Bunce to interrupt--well, that was an awkward moment, to say the least. He said my name in this way that made me think we might finally have the conversation we needed to have. It would probably turn into a screaming match, but that would be okay. We knew how to fight. We’d only been doing it for seven years straight, after all. At least we’d be _ communicating. _ Any kind of communication would be better than the detached silence, the closed doors in his eyes.

And then along came Bunce, running onto the beach, spoiling the moment. Things after that were awkward. Simon was pointedly avoiding my eye as we rushed to pack up the rest of our things and get to the airport. (We were already  _ going  _ to the airport...it’s not like rushing would get us back to London any quicker. But once Bunce gets an idea in her head, there’s no use arguing.) (The moment was past, anyway.) 

He took the window seat on the plane and stared out of it without ever looking away. No action movies for him this time. If he wasn’t so adamant about not letting himself think about things, I would have assumed he was deep in thought. As it was, I just sat there aching beside him.

We’ve been over the ocean for at least an hour now. Bunce is snoring softly in my ear, her frizzy hair tickling my neck. The empty fear inside me is nearly consuming me. 

Simon takes my hand.

My face snaps towards him, and our eyes meet in the reflection on the window. He holds my gaze and smiles. “I love you,” his reflection mouths. My heart stops. (Well, technically it’s not beating, but whatever.) Then he turns his head and meets my eyes properly. “I love you,” he murmurs, so softly it’s probably inaudible to anyone without vampire hearing. 

“You weren’t supposed to say it first, you tosser,” I murmur back, and he laughs so loudly that I elbow him. “Don’t wake Bunce. She’s clearly exhausted.”

He laughs again, quieter this time, and puts his head on my other shoulder. And here I am, sandwiched between my best friend and the love of my life, and I think this road trip may have actually worked. It was a last-ditch effort to keep our lives from completing the derailing process they’d been on for over a year. To wake Simon up, bring him back from the dead.

He lifts his head and drops a little kiss on my shoulder, then puts his head back there and snuggles closer to me.

Yeah. I think it worked. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> In one of my English classes, every Thursday we have to spend 15 minutes writing to a prompt. Today the prompt happened to be "A time a roadtrip changed my life" so I couldn't resist. (Thank goodness my professor respects the genre of fanfic!) 
> 
> So, yeah, this was written in 15 minutes after only one full read-through of the book. Hoping I remembered all the details right and that it doesn't have any glaring mechanics errors!


End file.
